What next?

Yo peeps, so long no high five. Today I ain’t in campus; I’m at a friend’s house. Funny strange, I find it hard to cajole sleep when I’m at any new premises. The ounce of sleep I’d managed to harness eluded me after I dreamt I was stalking my latest stalk victim on her honeymoon in the Bahamas, fully armed with my binoculars, camcorder and face-mask. Most of you know I’m a dreamer. But reality sucks. When I got up, I was on a bed, not a cliff on a beach, there was no moon and the jar of honey I’d been licking as I nursed my life’s disappointments before Morpheus swept me over my feet had toppled beside the reading lamp.

Being jolted awake by a dream has triggered a sequence of self review thoughts; myriads of them. It’s still dark and the passing headlights of a jeep outside have just made me see my image on the mirror beside me; with reflected glints of my hair, and the shadowing of my eyes, I’m somehow mysterious , a stranger to myself. I’m realizing I don’t know what happens next in my life, I just move. Sometimes I doubt whether I move at all, like, hey I’m just still there. Wait, huh? It’s been a decade since 2004? Now I’m uncomfortable. If the story-of-my-life was a movie, it’d be suspense all through.

I want to meet myself from someone else point of view. I sound worried? How should one sound when: my hobbies include trying to close the lift doors before someone else gets on and just wanting to stay locked up here and not participate in life, and my life has been a constant cycle of waiting for weekends. Oh yeah, and I still want abs and wings more than a decent commendable life after school. Those of you who have to be funny because, well, you are ugly, hence have no other option , know what I’m talking about. We are just like trees, we take forever to grow up; lol, never mind.

Being an adult sucks. When people ask you to hang out, you can’t be like, ‘hey, my dad said no’ you just have to change your name and walk away. Illustration:

Seriously, the amount of time I spend just imagining and re-imagining totally made-up scenarios in my head has got to be unhealthy. That’s why I went to the doc the other day. I arrived at the doc’s office and figuring that I didn’t have any case to bring forward, I told him sometimes it pains me to hold back my sarcastic comments on facebook and twitter. The dimwit gave me ointment and told me to always massage the hurting part, and suggested a therapy of 7 parody twitter accounts and 3 face book dummy accounts to exercise my sarcasm. Rings a bell? Confirms we are all crazy, I’m not alone :D. If you’re a single woman who takes advice from other single women, you’re also crazy, apart from being a wonder of the world. If you wonder whether it’s too late to wrap yourself up like a baby and throw yourself off from a billionaire’s doorstep, you’re crazy. I’m trying to fit all of us in this crazy bandwagon. Thank you. We are many. Actually you are only cool if you have an emoji next to your name in my contacts.

I know I’ll feel dumb and embarrassed after writing this. I always do after expressing any emotion. Yet one thing I never do is write a rough draft it’s either all or nothing; go big or go home. Anyhow, what’s dumb about admitting that sometimes I have the urge to shout at someone’s face ‘SHUT UP’ even when they aren’t talking?

Sometimes things don’t add up in life the way we want. Like 2+2=5. Don’t worry, I don’t get it either. I hate it when you have to be nice to someone you really want to throw a brick at. Eg; this girl who said ‘I’m so ugly!’ as she uploaded selfie number 875 to an album titled ‘meh’. Yet, you can’t throw a rock at your screen, can you? So you just pretend to like it. Then there’s this other one who I’ve been chatting up online until we’ve fixed a date for tomorrow. I still don’t know whether she’s real so I’ll carry a CAPTCHA Image so that she can prove that she’s human when we meet up. Before you start oohing and aahing, ‘date’ here means someone to talk to while I concentrate on the hamburger, fries and grape juice. Haha, do you ever look at your life and wonder what has the internet done to me?

I even don’t know what I’m doing, just type-away. Over thinking is what keeps me up at night. 2am is the new 10pm in my room, right? Oh, I ain’t even in my room. This room is cleaner, organized and well-scented. There’s even no plate in the sink. I always wonder why ladies get so upset about little things, like damn, I left a plate in the sink, not a dead rat or a cadaver! Ok, yes, I know my room is a mess. It’s a metaphor for my life and I’m just trying to be literally poetic. I’m just about to do something great right now. The Wi-Fi is strong enough; this’ a good host and a great neighbor too. I love ordering stuff online, you know, it’s like someone sent you a present but you sent yourself that present. That’s what imma do. Or mtado? A new shaver from Egypt for my hairy chest and… oh no… legs?! Hair sucks just like some people; turning up where and when they’re not wanted.

Breaking News: I don’t care. You prolly thought I did, amid all these bickering and rant here. However, I love hard work. I know hard work. Hard work is when you like someone but you pretend you don’t. I don’t know why they make getting a girlfriend easier in the movies. Like: movie starts at 9.00am, bad guy does something sinister to beautiful girlie who knows some good guy, good guy chases bad guy, cars jump over cliffs before good guy survives accidents and pops out of wreckage to kill bad guy, and suddenly. Beautiful girlie appears from nowhere to be kissed by good guy; the hero. Why don’t girls give me that chance to play superman here and there about town? I challenge them. Anyway, movie ends at 11am. In short, in just two hours, a guy has started from scratch to kissing her new girlfriend, or even much more. Two hours! Maybe I should try that tomorrow to this online chat-mate …er.. What’s her name? Make it rain; let’s just clap for this good guy.

*if you don’t clap you are a jealous freak!*

On that note, I always would like to hang out with people that make me forget to look at my phone. I actually met such a damsel yesterday during my morning jog. Problem is I was in my dirty snickers, sweaty t-shirt and pajama pants. I hate looking ugly the first time I meet someone, like wait, I can do better than this I swear. Anyway, we didn’t stop ‘hanging out’; we continued dangling precariously at the soccer pitch goal posts as we lifted our masses up to boost our biceps.

hanging out…

I know people who know me on the internet and in real life must be confused but I’m always sorry for offending you with my common sense. They say I’m naturally funny but they didn’t tell you it’s because my life is a joke. Now what? Back to the sheets? Call Mrs. WildVentures? That’s the point; I never know ‘what next’!